


Fire Rescue

by KatiraPathara



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Danger, Fire, Gen, Geralt has a thing for keeping kids safe, Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Possibly the lamest title ever, Random & Short, Rescue, but notice he protected his swords first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatiraPathara/pseuds/KatiraPathara
Summary: We all know Geralt has a soft spot for kids in need, this time it nearly kills him.





	Fire Rescue

It wasn’t the crackling roar or oppressive smoke that roused Geralt from his sleep, it was the singular scream of a child piercing the night air as sure as any arrow. He rushed to the window. Tongues of fire shot toward the sky from the wooden shingles of the green grocer next door. Panicked villagers darted through the street below. The wooden beams running up the side of the inn smoked in the heat.

The inn would catch fire any minute, and if Geralt had learned anything, fire moved faster than any monster. He threw on his padded gambeson, boots, and gloves as thick smoke poured into the room, choking him. He pressed his sleeve against his nose and mouth and bundled up his swords. Everything else could be replaced, but not those. Never those.

He pounded on each door along the narrow corridor leading to the common room as he rushed past. “Fire! Get out! Save yourselves.” 

Outside was chaos. People dashed toward the river carrying buckets, some hurried toward the well. Some stood dumbstruck in the middle of the street wringing their hands and muttering.

Geralt ran to the edge of the river, upstream from where the villagers knotted together to draw water off the edge of the narrow dock, and plunged his swords beneath the surface before anchoring them in place with a stone as large as his torso. With luck, he’d be able to find them when all of this was over. He then plunged himself in the freezing water as well, soaking his clothes. It would offer some protection against the flames and heat.

He hoped it would be enough. 

A child screamed again. Geralt focused his enhanced senses to sort out which building the sound came from. It had to be from the farrier’s shop. He sprinted across the square, ignoring the pushes and yells of the people hurrying through the streets. 

The side of the butcher’s shop collapsed with a splintering crash, sending flaming rubble into Geralt’s path. A roof rafter tumbled free missing his head by mere inches. He’d have to be more careful. Had it hit, he’d be knocked out and no one would come to his rescue, he was sure of it.

When he reached the farrier’s shop, fire engulfed the entire shingled roof as well as the back wall. The roof would come down at any minute and collapse the entire structure with it. The screams came again.

Without a moment's hesitation, Geralt burst through the door into smoke so thick he couldn’t see more than an arm length in front of his face. He crouched closer to the floor hoping to find better air, smoke could kill just as fast as fire.

“Come out, I’m here to help.” He yelled over the roar. Above him, the timbers creaked and snapped. Time was running out.

Another scream, this time weaker. Geralt honed in on the sound and rushed toward it. In the corner of the shop, two children cowered under a heavy workbench sandwiched between a stack of firewood and the wall. The older of the two, a boy no older than seven, wrapped himself around a younger sister who might have been three. She wasn’t moving. He couldn’t carry them both.

Geralt reached out toward the boy with his gloved hand. “Give her to me, quickly! I’ll get you outside.”

Seeing Geralt’s unnatural slitted golden eyes and pale scarred face didn’t help things in the least. The boy screamed again and held his sister even tighter to his chest. A deafening crash shook the walls as one of the roof beams gave out.

Any delay would kill them all. Geralt formed Axii with his fingers and cast it. The boy slumped back, blinking and dazed. His grip on his sister loosened. Geralt scooped her up and dashed out into the square. He held her close, listening for a heartbeat through all the noise and chaos around them and was rewarded with a soft steady pulse. She would live.

A villager hurried past carrying an empty bucket. Geralt grabbed him by the shoulder and thrust the girl into his arms. “Take her to the river where she’ll be safe.”

The villager stood stunned, both girl and bucket clutched in his arms, not knowing what to do.

“The river, man! Go, now!” Geralt ordered before turning back to the burning farrier’s shop. He rushed back inside, trying to orient himself to where he found the children before. The smoke hung thicker. Flames filled one side of the room making Geralt’s wet gambeson steam and burned at the skin on his face.

A cough. It was enough. Geralt rushed to the corner and under the workbench where the boy still blinked under the weight of Axii. It was for the best, Geralt couldn’t risk him fighting, not when every second mattered. He scooped him up under an arm and turned to leave when the front half of the shop collapsed, surrounding them in rubble and fire.

Geralt cursed, with his escape route blocked he’d have to find another way out. Even with his viper eyes, he couldn’t see through the smoke and flame enough to find another door. There had to be one.  He’d been in this shop once before, a long time ago when Roach had thrown a shoe. He struggled to find the memory. There was a small stable to one side along with the farrier’s workshop and bellows. Which side was it? 

He set the boy down and wrapped his gloved fingers around his slim hand. “No matter what, don’t let go.” The boy nodded dumbly.

Another splintering crack. Geralt bolted to the left, narrowly avoiding the falling upper floor joists, pulling the boy close behind him. With his free hand, he searched for the wall, bumping into chairs and a table as he worked across the room.

After several steps the walls rough timbers greeted him, much to his relief. Geralt frantically searched for an opening, a window even, and found nothing. There had to be something. He continued like a blind man, coughing loud and harsh as he went. The smoke clogged his lungs and tightened his throat.

The boy followed slower now, his head hanging low. Geralt could feel the rasp of his breath when he stood close. Where was that confounded door?

Geralt raced down the wall, trailing his fingers along its surface as he went. A raised edge of wood marked the doorframe. He’d found it. The latch mechanism moved freely, but no matter how hard he pressed his shoulder into the door, it didn’t swing open. Something blocked it on the other side.

He let go of the boy’s hand. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

Geralt took a step back and threw himself against the door with all his might. This time, it shifted open a few finger widths. He did it again and again, bashing himself against the door over and over. Despite everything, it only opened enough for his arm to slip through.

The dread chill of panic and desperation crept up the back of Geralt’s throat. He had to get the door open, had to get outside before they both suffocated. He kicked at the door. Their only hope rested in him breaking through the planking. His heart hammered in his chest. He wasn’t getting enough oxygen. With each kick, the world tilted and spun.

Blow after blow, the door didn’t give. Geralt needed a new plan. He turned to face the inferno of the room. The smoke cleared a fraction, venting out where the sides of the shop had collapsed. On the other side of the pile of burning rubble, he could see outside.

Geralt scooped up the boy high in his arms and wove his way through fallen beams and burning floor joists. Flames licked up his pant leg which was long since dry, blistering the skin beneath.

The shop moaned under the force of the blaze. A cascade of noise overhead filled Geralt’s ears as the remaining floor supports creaked, splintered, and gave way. He threw the boy to safety as one of the heavy beams struck his shoulder, driving him to the ground and pinning him face down against the dirt.

On the ground the air was cooler. Geralt took great lungfuls of it to clear away the dizziness. The force of the collapse knocked the fire back, creating a tiny sheltered space, and buying him precious time. Small mercies.

The beam held him fast, pressing down against the bone of his hip. Geralt dug his elbows into the dirt and crawled forward, trying to pull himself free. The motion sent blinding pain lancing down from his shoulder clear to his toes, whiting out his vision. The falling beam had shattered his collarbone, rendering one arm useless.

He formed the Aard sign and directed a single powerful blast at the beam. One miscalculation and he’d crush his own pelvis. The force of the blast shifted the beam backwards, freeing his hip enough to muscle his way out. He picked his way out of the smoldering wreckage and into the cold night air, grateful he saved the children, grateful to be alive.

Down in the shelter of the river, Geralt assessed his broken collar bone with his good hand and was relieved to find the bones more or less aligned. It would heal on its own in time, as would the burns. He recovered his swords, strapped them to his back, and resumed the path.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback.


End file.
